


Gaiju's Journey

by eclipse613



Category: Godzilla - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-23 18:06:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18707215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eclipse613/pseuds/eclipse613
Summary: Japan, in the height of the reign of the current Shogun. A reign, cut short violently by a sweeping army, led by a golden trio. A reign of a father, who died too soon to protect his daughter from the ilks of the world. But now, she enters into her own fate. Her own journey. Gaiju, daughter of Goju, seeks not the throne. She seeks not the power. She seeks nothing but her revenge.





	1. Prologue: Hail to the King

Prologue: Hail to the King

Japan would remember how hard the rain had fallen on that day. The ground of Honnoji was muddied, and soaked to the brim with fallen rain. Mist had gathered along the village, and the hushed murmur of hiding villagers was drowned by the harsh fall of the rain. The sun was not visible behind the blanket of grey, and the only warmth that was felt was underneath the armor worn by the soldiers that were gathered outside of the village. Samurai, Archers, Cavalry, all had gathered under one banner to put an end to the rise of the one who was regarded as a threat to the safety of the nation. Still, there was a fear that had risen in the bellies of the men, and that fear was being passed around by all sides. There was a very slim chance of survival, and the rumors that no one had survived an encounter with this demon was quickly becoming a reality. “What is our lord thinking? Sending us to battle against this beast?” one of the archers questioned, his wet face showing a tremendous amount of terror.

“Our lord is thinking of this nation!” a booming voice shouted as the crowd of soldiers looked to see who was speaking. Walking foreword, cutting through the ranks to take his place at the front of the line was a defensive wall of a man. His thick armor held imposing spikes along the back, and in his left hand he held a large mace, covered in similar spikes. His figure was that of a rock, heavy and cut of a stone that would not be moved without the hand of a god. Anguirus, the iron wall that would act as the defensive player in this battle. As his weighty form stood before them, some of the men gaped in awe at this living legend who stood before them. 

“More so, my brothers, he is thinking of the survival of all that dwell within our nation.” a lighter voice called out, followed by the light armored steps as a second figure joined Anguirus at the front. Clothed in red armor, his bird-like gaze sweeping over the surroundings, the warrior in charge of the light infantry and archers held a stance that some would call bird-like. Rodan. A man that hailed from the village of Oshu, he was regarded as the greatest bowman in the history of Japan. He reached back, removing his long-bow from its place and steadily notching an arrow, as he scanned the other side of the battle-field. Two great generals, and often regarded as two rivals in warfare, joining together under the banner of the man descended from royalty. The samurai gathered began to feel their fear lessen more and more until it was all but extinguished as the rain continued to fall. 

The battle would not begin until the general had made his statement. The samurai waited patiently as the field of battle continued to be soaked in the rain. Further back, in the encampment of the army, the candle lit main tent was all but silent. There were murmurings by the sword maidens, who were frantically rushing about in an attempt to continue with their job, though what it was they were doing was unknown to them. Among the shield maidens however, was a young girl cloaked in a beautiful kimono. Her pale face and vibrant amber eyes gazed up at the candle-light, in awe of the flames. Her reverie was cut short by the sound of metal rustling and her gaze turned to the noise. An imposing set of armor was lifted off of its place on the mantle, steadily being placed upon a mountain of a figure. His scarred body, laden with rippling muscle, was soon covered by black metal, all but his face under the protection of a large set of armor. Amber eyes looked straight ahead, locked onto a future target before they moved towards the large Wakizashi that had been placed ceremoniously in front of the armor. His hands clasped at his weapon, ripping it away from the mantle and strapping it to his waist before he began to move towards the tent exit.

“Father!” the young girl cried out as she raced to him, quickly hugging his leg. This stopped the giants steps and he turned his head down to the young girl. His eyes blinked and the hardened warrior softened as he knelt down to her, looking into her eyes. “Gaiju, you are young...and it is your fate to lead this nation when I am gone. As such it is my duty, as your father, to fight for our nation.” he told her, though he wasn’t sure why he was saying these things. Gaiju was far too young to understand these words, or even understand what it was he was going to do. She knew only that he fought and killed with honor. She didn’t understand that he was now fighting a figure who held no honor or even a code of morals in his body. A veritable demon. 

“You’ll come back...right father?” Gaiju asked. Her words cut deep into his being and he gave a light exhale of fear before putting on a toothy smile. She had never asked him this question before...in any of his battles. He had fought numerous opponents and still...this question...why? Was the fear of death so far ingrained in everyone’s mind that it had even spread to his daughter? “Of course.” he told her, pushing out an enthusiastic laugh as he stood to his full seven foot height, palming her head in his massive hands. Gojira, his father, had no fear of death. Goju would have no fear other when it came to battle. With a nod of his head to the maidens who were gathered before him he turned and marched into the rain, lightning cracking across the sky and thunder shaking the battle-field as Goju headed towards his gathered men. 

The army of Goju, a mass of shifting forms, began their steady march foreword, being lead by the imposing form before them. Goju, his black armor shining in the rain, marched steadily along. His eyes gazed steadily ahead, looking forward through the rain at the battle that would be coming to them. His gaze shifted steadily and it moved towards his men, who marched beside him with no fear in their eyes. Young, headstrong, impulsive...that’s what he had attracted. Like-minded individuals who would gladly give up their lives for his cause. “Let us hope that they return home to have such impressive children.” he remarked to himself before the sound of marching was heard ahead of him. The rival army. Unlike his own Samurai, bedecked in the armor of differing clans, this army was a massive arrangement of oranges and yellows. Golden like shine was seen from each soldier, their faces obscured by Mengu masks. The forces of one of the most ruthless figures that he was ashamed he had let live under the rule of his father.

Standing at the head of this opposing army were three figures that stood out among the soldiers. Two of these figures were female, each flanking behind the only male. He stood tall and regal in front of them, his weapon pressed in the mud in front of him. An executioner's spear, the spear head followed behind by a circular mass of sharp metal designed to decapitate. His golden armor gleamed bright as he waited for his enemy, the dragon like helmet obscuring his pale red eyes. To his left was his smaller sister, her armor a twisted black and red, with the same dragon motif on her helmet. To the right of the male was a woman that was actually about his size, though her body was laden with more muscle than his. Her helm was of the same gold as his, with a dragon motif to match. “Des, Kei, our rival has decided to make his move.” the male stated casually as he heard the thudding of the armored boots marching. “I have arranged our artillery teams to prepare for combat.” Des, the smaller sister, commented softly as she took her leave, heading out to lead the artillery squads. Kei stayed beside him, watching with a dull glint in her eye. 

They were nothing more than rebels disobeying a god. They would die like dogs in the mud, screaming in agony. That was the way of the Ghidora clan, and Cero, regarded as the King of the Ghidora clan, was the most powerful of them all. Kei was satisfied with just watching her brother conquer the whole of the land, she would just enjoy herself by watching. “Today, we end the worthless babble of a forgotten age.” Cero remarked as his eyes focused on the mass of bodies that was the approaching army. At its head was a mountainous figure, his form blazing with an aura of power and control. A member of the old clan...the son of the first Shogun of this era. Goju. Cero slowly let his tongue run along his teeth as he heard his sister, Des, give the command to raise the muskets.

The soldiers hadn’t anticipated the rain of bullets and fire that impacted into their armour. The blood that shot free of their bodies and the searing pain that burned holes in their being. The barrage of bullets, encumbered by the rain, didn’t hit their mark very often, but those that did left a deep imprint on the army. Goju had never faced an enemy that had used muskets before. Even he was in awe of the killing power of these spit-fire weapons. With a roar he gave the command to advance faster, hoping that their speed would stop the barrage of weapons and they could get in close. He figured Rodan would be in trouble on his end, the rain encumbering the volley of arrows that were flying, but he was not worried about that. They were so close to facing their destiny...they couldn’t let the fury of rain stop them. With a tug of his arm he unleashed his Wakizashi, the blade glinting with ferocious intent as he reached the front-line of the enemy army, cleaving his way past those that gathered before him. “Forward! For Japan!” he cried out as he cleaved the body of a soldier before him in two, the blood splashing across his face and mixing with the rain that poured down on the battle-ground.

Cero let an amused grin pass over his face as he started walking foreword, being joined by Des after the second barrage of bullets. “They are weak...they lack ambition.” Cero remarked, listening to the death cries of his enemies until he heard the strange roar of battle. Goju. He was coming. With a soft sigh he walked past his spear, a hand slipping into a fold of his armor as if it was a pocket. His enemy was coming to greet him...this would be a true test of the old clans might. The roar grew louder and from the swarm of bodies that had gathered to protect him, the imposing figure of Goju charged towards him, brandishing his Wakizashi high. The blade sailed towards his chest, ready to dig into his body and end the life of the one that many perceived as a tyrant. 

The blade was blocked away by a swing of a shield, knocking it aside. Kei stood beside her brother, holding a wing shaped shield in her right arm and gazing half-heartedly towards Goju. With a growl Goju charged towards Kei, but again his swing was blocked, this time by two daggers that were held by Des. The two sisters had completely blocked his attempt at getting at his main target, and this was an affront to what he believed as a Samurai. “Out of my way! I have no quarrel with you!” he roared as he yanked his sword away, glaring down at the two. Des slid her feet foreword, ready for a charge before she lunged directly towards him, her speed unmatched. Goju pushed onward, spinning his blade and striking her aside with the flat of the blade before he was met by Kei who stood protectively in front of her brother. With her shield down she was ready for a full frontal attack, but not for his boot crashing against it. As the armor caught on the metal he pushed off the shield, sailing into the air and raising the Wakizashi, high over the heid of Cero. Cero looked up with an amused glint before pulling his hand away from his armor. 

Goju had never experienced a pain of this magnitude. It ripped through his lungs and came free from a splash of blood that pushed out of his throat. Smoke billowed from the wound that had torn through his armor and the trail of smoke led to a pistol held in the hand of Cero. Goju’s body crashed to the ground hard as his sword fell away from his hand, his teeth clenched to fight the scream of pain that was billowing in his soul. “That...you...you dishonorable…” he coughed before wrenching down and coughing out another splatter of blood. Cero kicked his blade aside before reaching behind him, grabbing at his spear. “Honor? You old simpleton. Honor does not get you victory. It is a dated ideal of a dated individual.” Cero remarked as Kei and Des grasped at Goju’s arms, pulling them back and pressing him to his knees. The King of the Samurai...forced to bow down before their brother. 

Goju glowered at Cero as he slowly lifted his spear high, pricking his finger on the sharp point to test its edge. “You have no honor...you are not worth your rank as a samurai. You are no ruler.” he spat angrily before his mouth was closed by the spear tip pressing against his chin. Cero appeared mildly irritated at these words, but it soon passed and was replaced by a wide grin. “You keep going on and on about honor...but look. Look at what your honor has given you.” he remarked as he pointed to the battlefield. Goju dared not turn to look, he could already hear the screams. His men being massacred by the well trained army, cries of retreat by the commanders, and the routing of his troops. He had failed them...he had failed Gaiju. “Do not worry. I don’t intend to let you live with this shame.” Cero laughed with a cold-hearted smirk before looping the circle of steel around Goju’s neck. 

To die in battle is a high honor. To kill oneself for their lord a high honor. To die upon your knees...a disgrace. Goju felt a tear leak from his eyes and his hands clenched tight as he tried to fight his way out of the grasp of the two girls. They ceased to budge and refused to release their hold upon him. “I refuse! I will not resign myself to death!” he roared out as he pulled himself to one leg before Cero ripped the spear backwards, the circle of steel sliding through flesh and bone and coming free with a splash of arterial blood. Goju let out a gurgled cough, his hands freed by the two girls releasing their hold, to reach up and feel his head sliding free from its place. As he lost all feeling he fell to his knees before falling completely, the head rolling towards Cero’s feet. “Hail to the king.” Cero remarked calmly as he bent down, lifting the head by the hair and holding it high to examine it in the rain. Finally...his rule would no longer be threatened by the old ways. 

Lingering in the distance was a small girl. A girl who had watched the whole affair occur from her perch on a hill. Her body shivered in the rain, and twitched as she tried to fight down the hiccuping cries of deep sorrow. Her hands grasped at her arms, tightening further as she saw the disrespect of Goju, the lifting of his head in a shamed victory. She clenched her jaws before opening them wide and letting out a scream of anger and sorrow, the sound drowned out by a crack of thunder across the sky. The sound of a child learning of the harsh reality she lived in...and the awakening of a beast that would be able to swallow a tyrant whole. Gaiju screamed as loud as she could, to tell the heavens of her path from here on. Her proclamation of vengeance, of victory, of retribution for her clan. Her journey. 

I do not own any characters. All characters are owned by Toho and their respective branches. I do appreciate comments and critiques so be sure to rate & review!


	2. Chapter 1: The Lone Warrior

Chapter 1: The Lone Warrior

 

The village of Owari, having once been a lonely and desolate village, had reached its heyday as of late. The plentiful rice harvest was growing with delightful consistency, and the bounty of it was making Owari a prime destination for merchants to trade and sell, which in turn was growing the village. A cycle of growth that was good for everyone, and especially good to the owners of certain reputable businesses. Hiroko, a pioneer of the Sake industry in Owari, was benefitting the most from the growing city. He had never had so many patrons in his establishment before. And he had enough Sake to go around, as long as the yen continued to flow. The laughter and boisterous talk, fueled by the drink, brought a smile to the worn old man’s face. A day as beautiful as this, the warmth of the Sake was simply another added pleasure. 

“Hiroko! Pour us another round! We have a long journey ahead of us!” a boisterous voice rang out, followed by a loud cheer from his cohorts as Hiroko turned to the man, bringing with him a bottle of Sake. The loud man was a rather famous figure, at least in terms of warfare and other violent acts. He was a naval mercenary, a captain of the famed Red Helm Mercenaries. A warrior known as Ebirah. Hiroko poured them each a drink with a grin, backing away a step as the men returned to their drinking, boasting of their accomplishments and their gains with an air of accomplishment and superiority. Hiroko looked away from quickly as he returned to his other patrons, his heart hammering in his chest. Ebirah and his crew...devils of the sea and land. Under the reign of their new shogun they had prospered greater than anything else in the land. He supposed this was due to the shogun’s demands of obedience. The clans that would not bow down to his rule, were mercilessly hunted, and Ebirah was an expert at the role of hunting. 

The thoughts faded quickly as the sound of laughter and talking transitioned to a strained whispers as two footfalls sounded on his floor. Hiroko turned, ready to greet the new customer, only to be stunned into silence at the sight of them. The woman who stood before him was tall. Taller, perhaps, than any woman he had met thus far. And unlike the frail women that tended to inhabit Owari, or the older woman hardened by years of working the fields, this one seemed chiseled out of the very earth around them. Her face, seemingly the softest portion of her body, still held an air of warrior like regality. Her eyes breathed with a life that reminded Hiroko of a blazing inferno ripping through a forest. A gaze of anger and resolve that none could match. Her clothing also seemed odd for what he would figure a typical woman to wear. Notable about it was the topmost layer. A coat of some kind, with riveted armor trailing down the back, jutting out like a spine, with a “tail” made of the same armor. The coat functioned like a vest, with no sleeves to cover her arms, which were wrapped in bandages moving up to her forearms. Her top, besides the vest, was covered in what seemed like a black cloth, which Hiroko noted was the top of a robe. One that would bear a clan crest on the back...which she was choosing to cover with her vest. Curiosity notwithstanding, he let his eyes trail along her, studying every image of this titaness until his eyes fell upon what was strapped hard to her hip. A katana...no...much to long to be one. An odachi was more likely the case. The blade was huge, covered in a wooden sheath that seemed to be made of burnt wood, capped with a red ribboned hilt. The titaness looked towards the area, scanning the room before heading towards a lone table far from the others, who continued to speak silently amongst each other until at last the tension was eased with her sitting down, and the boisterous and booming voices returned with prior conversations. 

“What can I get for you, Miss?” Hiroko questioned, calmly moving beside her and placing a cup in front of her. She glanced down at the cup before reaching into a pack at her side, removing a string of coins, placing it on the table.  
“Two bottles of sake please.” she stated, her voice a perfect fit for her form. Loud, carrying weight to it, and commanding. Hiroko looked towards the string of coins, taking them without a word and heading back towards the stock he had. Gold. Something that a normal Samurai might carry on them, sure, but nothing that one would carry with them and use for a frivolous thing like alcohol. Not unless they either had no need for money, or had enough of it to not care about it. Hiroko looked towards the money again before retrieving two bottles, returning with them and setting them upon the table with a respectful bow of his head.  
“Is there anything else I could get for you, Miss?” he asked, receiving a curt shake of the head from the woman, before she lifted up one of the bottles, pulling off the wooden cork and placing it onto the table as she raised the glass to her lips, drinking it down with barely a pause for breath. 

Hiroko let out a contented sigh, returning to his position at the space behind the bar, before examining each and every customer. His eyes drifted every here and there to the woman, trying to place what the strange figure reminded him of, until something new caught his attention. It was a lack of sound. A lack of laughter. His eyes flicked over to the table of mercenaries...and from there he realized the issue. Ebirah and the rest of his crew had ceased their ruckus laughter and cheering, and instead seemed focused and rather twitchy. Ebirah himself had begun to reach forward, pulling and tugging at the strangely curved sword that he kept at his side. The captain finally made a movement, rising to his feet and grabbing at his personal glass, moving towards the lone woman with an arrogant stride as he kept his free hand on the hilt of his sword. 

“Oy. You a samurai?” Ebirah questioned, his voice slurred with the imbibement of sake clouding the intellect from his thoughts. The woman chose to remain silent, the only noise issuing out being the slosh of sake as it slid down her throat before she set the now emptied glass down, glancing with a half lidded gaze up to Ebirah.   
“Why do you ask?” she questioned, leaning back against her seat, her jaw clenching up slightly as she spoke.  
“Well, you ain’t got a crest. Or, well, you hidin’ it at any rate. Why not show us who you are, and then come sit with us, talk about your fights!” he hollered, the rest of his crew giving a cheer which sounded more mocking than it did endearing. Hiroko noted this with a bit of a cringe as he watched other patrons begin to move away, if not fully leave his establishment, dropping their coins as they did so. 

“I’m just a samurai. My clan doesn’t matter, and I chose to sit alone. Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to enjoy my drinks in peace.” she countered, reaching for the second bottle, only to be stopped by the sound of impaling wood, as Ebirah withdrew his sword, pressing the tip against the table as a twisted smirk appeared on his face. Hiroko moved to respond but was swiftly silenced as one of the crew members stood up, shooting him a look. Ebirah drew closer to the woman, digging his sword deeper into the wood as he grabbed at her bottle, pulling the cork off with his mouth and spitting it out, the wooden piece popping against the table and clattering against the wood. He raised the bottle, pouring the sake into his mouth, letting some of it dribble out onto the floor much to Hiroko’s chagrin.   
“Ah. Good Sake. Hiroko knows how to serve ‘em. You made a good choice.” he stated with a smirk, reaching back to take another drink. His arm raised, only to be stopped by an iron gip holding onto his wrist, the titaness glaring up at him with a fire like rage piercing through his body.  
“Drop. My. Drink.” she snarled, her grip increasing in strength as she twisted and pulled at his arm, Ebirah’s fingers starting to pull away from the bottle itself. She reached forward, pulling the bottle aside and placing it onto the table. 

Ebirah lost all bit of his drunken stupor, his mouth twisting to a grimace as he yanked his arm away, pulling his sword up and pressing it up to her throat. Hiroko opened his mouth, willing to say anything, only to feel the cold steel of a dagger at his back.   
“Hey, old man. Shut your mouth. This ain’t gon’ take long.” one of the thugs whispered into his ear as they watched Ebirah twist and turn the sword about, backing away from the giant of a woman. Assessing distance. Length of sword to the figure he’s facing.  
“We was tryin’ to be nice, girl. Gon’ share a drink or two. But that hurt. That hurt a lot.” he huffed, yanking his sword away, leaving a mark on the cheek of the giant woman, a twisted smirk flashing on his face as he watched the blood drip down her cheek.  
“I want to be left alone.” she responded, ignoring the mark on her cheek. Blood dripping steadily down her jawline, though for a flicker of a moment, Hiroko seemed to catch a glimpse of a small drift across her lips. Only for a moment.   
“And we ain’t gonna. Girl like you comes walkin’ in here, actin’ all tough. You know who you’re talking too? I’m Ebirah, the number one Samurai hunter for Lord Cero!” Ebirah called out angrily, spittle flying from his face. 

The room seemed to take on a strange heat to it as the strange woman tensed up slightly, her eyes focusing hard on Ebirah’s. The drunk man took a hesitant step back, trying to hide it as a stumble, but even his men could feel it. That blast of heat that always permeated the body at the most instinctual signal of all men. Fear. The titaness, her countenance changing from sheer boredom to animal like rage, clicked her teeth together in thought before taking a single step forward.  
“You work for Cero?” she questioned, her voice hardened, her steps heavy and thudding hard against the ground with a steady rhythm that seemed to mirror the ancient drum beats of war. She was war. That thought continued to beat inside the head of Hiroko as she continued walking, her hand moving to the hilt of her Odachi.   
“I’m his top hunter. Didn’t ya’ hear me say that, girl?!” Ebirah spat, but his voice seemed to quiver at the last. Fear. He was afraid. Too afraid to be as threatening as he was attempting to be.   
“Right. So, that makes you an enemy of mine.” she continued, a smile flashing across her face for an instant. An instant that Hiroko almost missed, as he watched her body dip down, quicker than he could have previously imagined was possible for someone of her size. Her body swept forward, shoulder slamming hard into the chest of Ebirah, sending the man crashing backwards into a table which collapsed under his weight. His sprawled, drunken, form slid along the ground, a groan issuing forth from his lips. 

“Which makes all of you my enemies.” She snarled out, grasping hold of her Odachi’s hilt tight and sliding into a fighting stance. Hiroko let out a sharp breath as the dagger pulled away from his back, the man behind him yelling to his comrades to stand ready to fight. The old man looked back towards her, entranced but fearful. An Odachi was a very large weapon, one that required distance to use correctly. And she had yet to even draw her weapon. By the time the men had gotten within striking distance, there would be zero chance for her to even withdraw her sword. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he watched as the assortment of thugs descended upon her, their daggers and kami drawn to carve into flesh. But the strike didn’t seem to come. Hiroko continued to watch, and his old eyes drifted to her hand. Watching as it gripped against the hilt of her sword, and pulled it free faster than he could have possibly imagined. Yanking the shimmering blade from its sheath, and watching as the long blade sliced into the first warrior, cleaving through the cloth and flesh of the man with ease. Carving a path through the first and digging hard into the second, stopping only where, he knew, that the blade was meeting spine. She tugged the body, still flailing and screaming, over to her right, swinging his form into the body of the third attacker, watching as they crashed into each other with a sudden and harsh thud. The blade carried through, but so did her body, letting her move with it and slide past the swing of the twin kami towards her from the fourth attacker. 

 

Though appearing as if time slowed, Hiroko felt that was time was moving at the normal speed. She had done all of this quickly. Far too quickly. With an efficiency of a trained warrior at least twice as small as her. The attacker dug his kami out of the ground, turning to strike at her, only to meet the blade piercing through his throat and out the other side. Hiroko tried to ignore the sound of gurgling as blood filled his throat, but was unable to ignore the sound of arterial spray as she yanked the blade free of his throat, his body shuddering and shaking violently as he fell face first onto the floor. Her eyes trained to the floor, watching as Ebirah scrambled to his feet, hoisting up his sword for a strike. Her arm flashed forward, the blades clashing for a brief instant, only for Ebirah’s sword to shatter upon impact, the pieces of metal scattering along the floor with a loud clatter. A single strike, and Ebirah’s symbol of fear had been ripped away with a strange level of calm that seemed to be a stark contrast to the violent behavior of this titan. Ebirah looked up at her in shock and awe, his lips quivering as she raised her sword up high, as if expecting an execution more than a battle. Her swing came too late however, as the mercenary turned quickly, darting out of the door of the bar with drunken spirit far beyond what he was previously capable of. And, like the gentle breeze of this morning earlier...there seemed to be calm again, but the dead calm that always follows after an earth shattering event. 

“Could I have another bottle, sir?” the woman asked as she slid her fingers off her blade, flicking her wrist to send the blood off. Hiroko nodded quickly, racing to the back and returning with a bottle of the Sake from previously, handing it to her with quivering hands. She began to reach into her pouch, reaching for coins, only for his hand to instinctively reach out to stop her.   
“No. I will not take money from you. I...I may not be able to see your crest, but I know who you are. That blade, that stance that you had...the way you fight. Your eyes. You are the daughter of the true ruler, aren’t you? You are Gaiju?” Hiroko questioned, his voice quivering as he watched the woman reaching out and grasping at the cork, yanking it free and pouring the contents of the liquid gold into her mouth, careful not to spill a drop.  
“Yes. Thank you for the drink, sir. Tell me, am I far from the nearest town?” She questioned, after having swallowed down the Sake, rolling her shoulders back as the bite of the drink stung her throat.  
“The nearest village...the village of Yōji isn’t too far from here if that’s what you mean.” Hiroko stated, motioning down the path towards a rather sizeable village, a large temple dominating its center.

“Yōji...hmm. I suppose that is as good a place as any.” Gaiju mumbled to herself, tying the bottle to her sash with a bit of the ribbon from her sword before moving towards the door.   
“Master Samurai...I must ask...what is it you plan?” Hiroko questioned, bowing his head low to her in respect. She stopped for a moment, considering her answer wisely before shaking her head slightly.  
“I’m not my father, sir. I don’t plan. I just have to do what I am honorbound to do.” she responded, her jaw clenching tight. Her fingers clasped against the sword, tight enough to whiten her knuckles, as she strode out of the sake den, marching down the street towards the city in the distance. To a destiny even she did not fully understand.

A throne room, dazzling with assortment of gold, rubies, sapphires, and precious jewels that dazzled the mind. A throne room fit for a ruler. Cero himself admired the view from his place on the throne, glancing about the room with a smile of relaxation. Everything had gone just as he needed it to go. And here he sat, the king upon his throne, with the world at his heels. Beside him, to his left and right, were his sisters. Standing tall as his guard, their own gaze unflinching and unfeeling. His eyes trailed down following the strikes of his elite guard as they began their strike upon the lone warrior. She who stood solemn and unconcerned as she deftly moved away from each strike, following up with a hard elbow to the sternum of the guard facing her, sending him flying backwards, sprawling against the ground. The woman, her deep red hair falling in static waves against her back, turned with a sadistic smile on her face as she bowed to Cero, licking her teeth.  
“Satisfied?” she questioned as the elite guard held his chest in agony, blood pooling at his lips. Shattered ribs. The bone shrapnell had pierced his lungs. Cero leaned forward nodding his head as he kicked the weapon at his feet towards the demon. A bestial blade, the sword capped with teeth lining the cutting edge. A thick flat monstrosity, with an absurdly long hilt that ended with a two pronged spear tip. A monster. Perfect for the demon that stood in front of them.  
“Exceedingly. I’m surprised that a demon like you would rather serve under me, than rule over the rest of the people.” Cero stated, resting his chin on his hand with a bemused grin.  
“Ruling over others due to a title means nothing. If I head your armies, everyone will bow to your whim. And I can wage war and fight to my every desire.” the demon laughed, swinging the sword and resting it on the back of her neck, the teeth digging into her skin. A strangely sadistic monster. But, one that may prove useful.  
“Then I’m honored to have you. Welcome to my army, new Master General. What shall I call you, you never gave me your name.” Cero countered.  
“Oh, that bit is simple. I have none. But as long as I am in your army...I shall be your...Destroyer.”

I do not own any characters. All characters are owned by Toho and their respective branches. I do appreciate comments and critiques so be sure to rate & review!


End file.
